Conquered
by fangirl0420
Summary: Chat Noir sprints across the rooftops of Paris, his lady pressed to his chest, blood sliding down her head. "You have to hold on m'lady, I can't lose you." He heard her miraculous beep. One minute to get her there. There is no way they'll make it. He has to protect her, to save her. Disclosure: I do not own the Miraculous characters. All other ideas and characters are my own.
1. Chapter 1

Light streams in the window at the base of the stairway as Marinette's eyes flutter open to start the day. Her kwami, Tikki, lays on the deep, soft pillow next to her, still dozing away. It seems not having to shower meant you're allowed to sleep past the alarm clock.

Stretching her arms over her head, Marinette arches her back, working out the kinks from last night before sitting up and swinging her legs out of bed. Her parents are early birds. Her father is a baker and he's up for hours before she's even thinking about getting out of bed sending warm, soft, delicious baked goods to restaurants, cafes, and even a few private homes all over Paris, and that is before he's even opened the doors to the public. Her mother gets up a bit later than her father, joining him in the bakery. They work together throughout the day, baking and creating amazing confections for the citizens of Paris. Even on the top floor of their row house, she can smell the delicious aromas of croissants that melt in your mouth, cinnamon rolls that ooze and bubble with sweet, syrup beneath a thick coating of decadent fronts, and danish's packed with apple, cherries, cream cheese, and several other mouth watering fillings beneath their flaky crust. It's a good thing she has such an arduous workout regimen to keep her fit.

Slipping from the bed, she heads for the stairs, picking up her robe at the bottom. Living at the top of the house, she has to climb down two flights of stairs to reach the bathroom, located on the second floor with her parent's bedroom. She showers quickly before returning to her room to dress for the day.

Tikki joins her at her vanity, watching her brush her hair. The kwami can't help thinking that Marinette is such a pretty girl; so elegant with her hair down, flowing about her shoulders, glistening in the light with wisps framing her face on the sides. A beautiful girl who's completely oblivious to it; a sweet, modest girl. Tikki adores her. She continue to watch as her charge brushes her hair before combing it back and pulling it into her signature low pigtails. She knows they'll be off to school soon and heads to Marinette's handbag, diving in and getting comfortable in the soft, padded lining Marinette added just for her.

Finishing her hair, Marinette leaves the vanity, no consideration for makeup at all. It just wasn't her. The thought of "improving" her looks with makeup was the farthest thing from her mind. Vanity wasn't in her, yet another reason that Tikki adores her.

Marinette had seen Tikki zip off out of the corner of her eye, a streak of bright pink dashing through the air. Knowing she'd already gotten comfortable, she walks over to her school bag, slotting her books into it before lifting it to her shoulder and finally picking up her handbag, careful to lift it by the long strap or the ends of the metal clasp so as not to collapse the interior on her friend.

Going downstairs, she checks that neither of her parents have come up from the bakery for any reason. Most days her mother comes up to check on her and make sure she's gotten out of bed on time, though she's made progress on that as she's gotten older. Seeing that both parents appear to be in the storefront, she opens her purse, allowing Tikki to drift out.

"Hungry?" she asks.

"Starving" affirms the little goddess. Moving to the counter, she finds three fresh croissants sitting on a plate, waiting for her. Moving to the ice box, she takes out a jar of jam and places it on the counter. Unrolling one of the pastries, she spreads the sweet jelly on the delicate roll. Rolling it once again, she cuts it into several kwami size buns and places the plate on the counter for her friend and mentor.

The remaining two rolls she spreads butter over the top of then a little jam. Going to the ice box again, she returns the jam and takes out the carton of milk, pouring herself a small glass, she returns the carton, closing the door, before taking a seat next to Tikki and beginning her breakfast as well.

Tikki had just finished her breakfast when the two heard the slight creak of the stairs. Zipping to Marinette's purse, Tikki takes cover as Sabine, Marinette's mother, comes into the room.

"Good morning" she greeted.

"Good morning mama."

"All ready for school."

Marinette pats her school bag, "All set," as she pops the last of her breakfast in her mouth.

"I'm glad to see it. You've been doing better getting up in the morning."

"I've been trying."

"Your father and I are proud of you. You've also been doing a good job being where you're supposed to be at school."

"I know school is important and if I'm going to be accepted to a top fashion program, I have to have top marks."

"That is very fore thoughtful of you," complimented Sabine, smiling at her daughter. "If you're already for school, I'm going back to the bakery. We'll see you in a few minutes?"

"Yes, I'm just finishing up breakfast. I'll be down after I put my dishes away."

Smiling, Sabine heads back down the stairs

-/\\\\\\-

For once, they weren't just on time for school, they were actually early. Marinette wanders over to join her best friend Alya and her beat-bopping aspiring DJ boyfriend Nino. They are talking back and forth over something Alya has on her phone. They look up together, nodding to Marinette but going back to the video. There's a comfortable comrade between them, just being together is enough. They don't have to entertain or engage, just be there. It's endearing but also leaves Marinette with a feeling of longing.

She glances up, seeing a dark sedan role up to the curb. Her heart jumps, racing just knowing who the vehicle belongs to. The door cracks open and a young man steps out, standing behind the door for a moment and surveying the sidewalk. His eyes fall on the group Marinette is in and breaks into a wide grin. Marinette's eyes drop to the sidewalk, unable to meet his emerald gaze. He lifts the bag to his shoulder and steps from behind the door, pushing it closed behind him then making a beeline to them but, before he can arrive, a skinny blonde girl comes barreling across the walk, jumping on him and nearly knocking him over. Marinette can feel her distaste for the girl rising as the boy disentangles himself from her, a disgruntled expression on his face, before saying good morning and continuing on his way.

Finally joining their group, he greets everyone with a good morning. Marinette stammers, "Mood gorning… mord goding… good morning."

He doesn't believe he'll ever get used to her nervousness around him. They'd had a rough start but he'd thought they'd been getting better. It's strange, there are times she's assertive and their conversations are smooth but, there are other times… he's just not sure what causes her to be so nervous around him. He smiles at her, she may be awkward around him but she has endeared herself to him in ways even his best friend hasn't. She's kind and easy to talk to, someone he can share his heartache with without concern of judgement. Marinette's heart was big enough for all those willing to accept he affection and he smiled at how lucky he was to be one of those people.

The friends stand together for a while, Nino, Alya, and Adrien chatting about whatever comes to mind. Marinette listens, absorbing any details Adrien might hint or drop in the conversation about his likes, dislikes, interests, life in general. She nods along with the conversation and makes small, quiet comments once in a while but mostly hangs back. When the bell rings for the students to move into the school and prepare for class, Nino and Adrien break off together with Alya and Marinette gravitating towards one and other.

"Girl, you need to be more assertive. Talk to that boy before someone else snatches him up."

"Alya, I just can't. I get near him and I'm completely tongue tied."

"I have seen you talk to that boy, don't tell me you can't. Why is it so hard for you to believe he would be interested in you?"

"He's amazing. He's sweet and kind. He's thoughtful and a complete gentleman."

"Why is that so intimidating to you?" she asks as she opens her locker, putting in the books she took home last night, her bag, and withdrawing her supplies for her first class.

Looking up at her friend from behind the locker door, Marinette pauses for a moment to think about the question before licking her lips and answering, "I'm not intimidated."

"Then what is your deal? Because we seriously have to get you and that boy on the same page."

"Don't do anything. Nothing at all!" cries Marinette. Panic gripping her.

"Chill girl, I'm not going to do anything you don't want."

"Please don't say anything to Adrien. And don't have Nino say anything to him either."

"Tell me why you won't do anything."

Marinette stops, considering her words carefully, "What if … he doesn't like me that way? What if he likes Chloe? Or one of the models his father works with all the time. Some of them are our age or only a little older. They're gorgeous and a part of his world and I'm …. I'm Marinette, a school girl who wants to be a designer some day but doesn't have much else to offer someone who is not only an amazing person but who lives in a world I can only dream about being a part of."

Looking at her friend, Alya is shocked, "You're scared."

Marinette nods.

"So you'd rather hold onto the hope that maybe someday Mr. Amazing will notice you and make the first move than take a chance and find out he's just not interested."

She nods again.

"What if he asks you out?"

"Then I'd go"

"I'm confused."

"If he asks me out then I know he likes me but if I ask him out then... "

"Then he could turn you down?"

"Yes, and I'm not sure I could take that rejection."

Laughing Alya asks, "Do you realize that is exactly how every boy feels and yet we girls expect them to be the ones to take the leap of faith and do the asking. Come on girl, catch up with the time. We're equal opportunity around here." Marinette pauses, realizing Alya is right but she continues before Marinette can comment, "Do you even realize how much you already mean to Adrien?"

Now she just looks confused.

"Adrien sees our whole class as his friends; Rose, Max, Kim, Nathan. We're all his friends but there are only three of us he really considers to be important to him they are Nino, YOU, and me. in that order," she emphasizes.

It takes a moment for that to sink in, "Really?"

"Yes!"

"Then that's even more reason for me not to say anything, I don't want to drive a wedge between us as friends."

Alya face palms due to the sheer ludicrous logic of her dear, dear friend. "Marinette, someone needs to help you before you destroy any chance you have," she murmurs, her words muffled as her hand slides from her forehead down her face.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"Let's get to class, we're going to be late if we don't get moving.

Taking a seat behind the two boys, the girls get settled in, ready to start their academic endeavors. Marinette may not be the best student in class but she is one of the top students in her class in addition to being the class representative. The morning classes are slow; writing and grammar, mathematics, history.

Marinette felt like her brain has turned to gelatin by the time Miss. Bustier is preparing to dismiss them for lunch. "Before everyone leaves, we have an announcement. Agreste Fashion is sponsoring a competition open to secondary students of all the schools in Paris. There will be a preliminary review of all submissions. At that point, Agreste Fashion will cut those they don't feel meet their final expectation. All submission remaining will be invited to a ball held by Agreste fashion where Gabriel Agreste will personally review the designs and choose the winner. This winner will receive the opportunity to intern with Agreste Fashion this summer." Marinette's heart is racing though she's not as excited as she might have been before she'd met Adrien. "Each participant must design and produce a formal gown. The first evaluation will be in four months. Applications are available in the office. Are there any questions?" Seeing none, "You are dismissed."

Marinette's creative energy runs wild. She's thankful to have found out about the competition before lunch so she doesn't have to pretend to focus on the lessons of the afternoon, though there's a good chance that may not happen despite having a break to try and purge her creative energy.

Marinette bolts out of her chair as soon as the class is dismissed, sliding by Adrien, their bodies brushing against one and other intimately without realizing it, Alya right behind her smiling at Adrien who's eyes have grown large with shock and a blush has spread across his cheeks at the close proximity of Marinette's body to his own. Marinette is almost sprinting down the hallway without breaking from a walk, handbag held firmly in her hands so it doesn't swing wildly at her gate. Upon reaching her locker, she yanks it open, tossing her books on the shelf and snatching her book bag and lunch. Looking over, Alya is also taking her lunch and smiles at Marinette. Marinette loves her friend more for understanding her urgency and keeping up. Together they make a beeline for the front door then the park beside Marinette's house.

At the park, Marinette plops down on the closest bench, frantically unpacking her lunch and setting it between herself and Alya before reaching into her bag for her drawing tablet, pencil set, and a large eraser. Laying the tablet across her lap, eraser on top, she takes one of her pencils out, sliding the case beneath her tablet and begins to draw.

Her first figure has a fitted, strapless bodice with a full, ballroom style skirt. The bodice fits to just above the hip bones before subtly expanding outward and flowing to the floor in a subtle belle shape. The neckline has a shallow sweetheart dip in the middle. Alya watches the creation come to life on paper, no less amazed at her friend's skill than she was the first time she saw it. Marinette stops, mostly finished with the design and Alya sees her brows knit, an unhappy expression crosses her face moments before she flips the page and starts again.

This creation is a bateau neckline, high and dipping from shoulder to shoulder along the collar bone before tapering down to the waist and flowing over the hips and into a double pleated, A line skirt. It's conservative and stylish but Alya thinks it looks more medieval or appropriate for a office setting than an elegant gown. Marinette's lips are pursed to one side and it seems she agrees because she flips the page again before she's really completed the design.

Entering the park where a number of the students take their lunch, Adrien spots Alya and Marinette on the closest bench, Alya taking a bite of her sandwich and Marinette hunched over a sketch pad. He knows if he approaches them he's going to have a babbling and incommunicable Marinette so instead he turns to Nino, placing a finger over his lips, and Nino nods. Moving to the trees that run between the park benches, they make their way behind Marinette and Alya's bench. Alya has been nudging Marinette as the boys walk, encouraging her to eat her lunch and saving them all from listening to her stomach growl all afternoon. As they near, Alya glances back at them and Adrien quickly places his fingers over his lips, eyes pleading as Alya's mouth, already open to greet them, closes with a pop. Smiling, she turns a bit so as not to block the view from behind the bench. Nino lifts his chin, greeting Alya and Adrien slips in behind Marinette's shoulder, watching her make gorgeous, elegant creation after sensual, sleek, shapely creation. Finally, Nino nudges him gently and moves off to the bench ten feet farther down to sit and eat his lunch. Adrien nods and watches as Alya gets up, going to the trash to throw away her own lunch wrappers, and joins him, easily falling into conversation with Nino.

He's not sure how many designs he's watched flow from Marinette's nimble fingers but this one, this one makes him lean a little farther over her shoulder. It starts as an asymmetric neckline flowing over the curves of the figure, hugging and emphasising. It slides over the hips before flowing outward in many, many folds that looks like a long, billowing godet skirt. She has the rough outline and major lines of the front finished as she starts work on the back. The dress is backless or a very, very low back. The dress sweeps around one side, then drapes from one side of the back to the other, coming up to meet the sleeve on the other. She draws in the long line of the figures back, sweeping and lovely before continuing with the skirt. In the back, the skirt it fitted several inches below the hips before flowing outward in the same godet style.

Once she's finished the general styling of the front and back, she goes back in and starts adding details. She gives the shoulder several folds as the dress flows downward. The bust is fitted but not tight and has several folds and pleats. She takes these pleats down through the waist and over the hips then allows them to flow outward in the fullness of the skirt. Her pencil stops moving and she sits up, tilting her head slightly as she considers the design.

Adrien finally breaks his silence, "I think you have a winner there."

Marinette jumps, startled to hear someone's voice behind her. Turning she sees Adrien and she blushes prettily. Adrien swallows hard before rubbing his neck. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to intrude. I like watching you work. You're very talented."

"Th.. thank you," she stammers.

"I really think you have a winner with that one. I don't think my father's done better." When she doesn't say anything, he's not sure if she's angry at him, again, or her usual shyness has rendered her speechless. "Marinette?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Marinette, even my father recognized your talent. He called your design, and I quote, an 'exquisite creation.' He does not give praise easily and that was high praise from anyone. I know that this creation will make an even greater impression on him."

"You think so?' she asks hesitantly.

"I know so Marinette."

"Thank you Adrien."

"No problem. And if you have any other designs, I'd love to take a look at them. You are amazingly talented." He watches as a smile creeps across her lips though she tucks her head down and tries to hide the look of pleasure, and maybe a slight blush, at his compliment. "I better get my lunch eaten before I don't have time. You should too, or we're going to be listening to your stomach for the rest of the afternoon," he teases, pointing at her barely touched lunch.

"Yeah," she responds.

He hesitates, ready to leave. He'd been planning to sit with Nino for lunch but in his eagerness to watch Marinette work, he'd given up his seat to Alya. He pauses for a moment, looking around for a place to sit. Marinette notices his uncertainty and also looks around. Noticing that most of the benches are occupied she quietly offers, "You could sit with me, if you want."

Relief washes over Adrien at her offer. He wasn't looking forward to wondering the park looking for an open seat to eat at. "That'd be awesome. Thanks!"

Looking once again at her sketch pad, Marinette considered the figure before flipping the pages closed and returning her pencil to its case. Placing it all within her bag, she leans it against the side of the bench before pulling her lunch into her lap. Taking out the turkey sandwich on a crescent, she takes another bite, enjoying the flaky, buttery pastry. Sitting next to her, Adrien opens his roast beef sandwich on a wheat. They sit together, quietly eating their lunches. Nino and Alya watching them from the next bench over.

"Do you think either of them will say anything?" asks Alya.

"My man Adrien can carry on a conversation. Now if you're girl Marinette would just get over her nerves and actually talk the boy, things would go a lot smoother."

"I know. You know what she told me this morning?" Nino shakes his head, "She told me she's happier to keep things the way they are than to talk to him. She'd rather not know than to find out they could only ever be friends."

"Wow, that's…" not knowing what to say, Nino let's his statement trail off.

"Kind of sad?"

Nino looks back at the couple, "It's sad that Marinette has so little confidence in herself. I know that Adrien keeps saying that she's just his friend but I've seen the way he is around her. He's not like that with anyone else. At Chloe's party he really enjoyed dancing with her. He didn't dance with anyone one else that day. And did you see him when Marinette designed the cover for Jagged Stone?"

Alya nodded, "And did you see Marinette when he asked for her autograph?" She giggles.

"I know, they were both stammering messes. I've never seen him nervous around anyone except her."

"So you think he's interested in her?"

"He says there's someone he likes but it's not someone I know."

"Is there something going on there? I don't want this to get complicated."

"He's told me that she hasn't responded to his advances… yet. But they're friends."

Alya paused, thinking.

"Do you think we should intercede on our friends behalfs?" asks Nino.

"If you'd asked me yesterday, I would have told you no but after today… I think we should create an opportunity for them. What happens after that is up to them."

Grinning, Nino nudges his girlfriend, glad she's exactly the girl she is.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn't intended for his visits to become so frequent. Honestly he'd never intended, or even considered, making visits an infrequent event but fate had intervened on his behalf, something he believed he'd be eternally thankful for.

It had happened one evening when his father had been especially irritating. He'd insisted on a meal of almost nothing. Adrien thought it was some sort of beef strips, three to be precise for a total of almost as many ounces of meat, two miniature pieces of corn on the cob, a small helping of prepared cabbage, and two ribbon strips of carrots that he was certain were only supposed to be there for decoration but he'd eaten them anyway. He'd patiently waited for the second course while his father ate a considerably larger portion and focused his attention on the tablet laying on the table beside him. Once he completed his meal, he stood from the table and left, taking his tablet with him. It was then that Adrien realized there would be no second course and his father expected him to somehow survive on such small meals to 'retain his model figure.' It's ridiculous. He's a teenage boy in the middle of a major growing period in his life. How did his father expect him to do that when he felt like he was being starved. Sure the portions he received would arguably maintain his health (when you didn't factor in the major calories he was burning in his unsanctioned workouts) but he never felt full.

Leaving the table as well he'd retired to his bedroom, which seemed to be their regular routine. Have dinner together then they'd both retire to their own pursuits, unless he had piano to practice or Mandarin lessons. Then he was expected to give up his free time to those pursuits his father deemed worthy of his time. How he'd ever convinced his father to allow him to have Ultimate Mecha Strike III,he had no idea but, if it was an oversight on his father's part, he was thankful for it and very careful not to be caught playing it too often for fear Father would decide it wasn't worth his time. It was no wonder he'd gotten so good at it though, what else did he have to do in his gilded prison. He wondered how Marinette had gotten so good at it. She has so many pursuits, How she has time to be such an amazing designer, get to good at Mecha III, be the class representative… It's a full load but, he supposed, it's what she wants to be doing. His full load is decided by another.

Laying down on his bed, he'd wondered what to do with himself. It was barely seven thirty. He could play Mecha but, since Marinette had give him his lucky charm, he'd beaten it three times. That didn't sound appealing at all. Instead, he grabbed his lounge clothes and headed for the bathroom. He'd taken his time while taking a shower and "preparing" for bed. By the time he'd finished, it had been after eight. He knew his father had retired to his own room to do whatever it was he did in the evenings. Going to the bed, he quickly shoved some pillows under the covers, bunching them up in what appeared to be someone sleeping in the fetal position, his face to the wall next to his bed. He wanted to make sure no one could sneak around easily and look under the blanket that appeared to be pulled up, over, and around his head. Turning out the light, he quickly headed toward the bathroom

"Plagg, let's go." he'd called. The small kwami had darted out from behind his bed.

"Where are we going?"

"Out for a run."

"Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"No, I just need to get out of here. I'm suffocating."

Plagg could understand his feelings. He watched day in and day out as one of his favorite wielders was pushed around and bullied by one of the worst parents he'd ever seen. He'd heard about Adrien's mother from him. What he'd told her about Emilie led him to believe she is… was… that before she disappeared she was the kind of mother that doted on her child. That Adrien had been a child that did not lack for affection from his mother. He'd also said that his father had doted on his mother, though Plagg felt his father had been just as distant then as he is now to his only son though it wouldn't have been apparent to Adrien.

Entering the bathroom, Adrien closed the door securely and released the latch on the window across from his sink. He'd learned at Christmas not to leave his room through the windows in his bedroom. "Plagg, claws out." he calls, allowing the magic of his transformation to wash over him.

He loved putting on the suit. He felt different when he has it on. He knows it gives him greater strength, agility, dexterity not to mention some seriously awesome cat related powers but none of that was what made putting on the suit so great. When he has the suit on it feels like all the weight, all the chains that he carries as Adrien are stripped away. He feels powerful. Not strong powerful but self assured. It occurs to him that this is how he should feel all the time and it saddens him. This is how he'll feel when he turns eighteen and he can take his life in his own hands he tells himself.

Bracing his hands on the counter, he lifts one foot and pushes himself up, squatting on the counter top in front of the window. He swings the window open and slips out onto the the ledge before swinging the window closed and placing a rock in front of it to ensure it stays securely closed should someone enter his room. Leaping, he grabs the ledge of the brickwork above him before jumping to the gutter and pulling himself up onto the roof. It wouldn't do for someone to see Chat Noir bounding away from the Agreste estate.

Sauntering along the ledge at the roof of his home, Chat heads towards the place des Vosges park. As he reached the end, he took several sprinting strides before leaping to the roof of the houses across the street. Feeling secure now that he's no longer on his own property, he begins to run across the rooftops moving towards the school, leaping from one chimney to another. Reaching the corner across from the school Chat stops to decide where he's going to go. Glancing down, he's surprised to see tiny, pink ballet slippers sticking out from beneath the triangle awning. Those slippers are attached to long legs beneath a warm pink pair of capris. Marinette's wasn't his intended destination but it'd be rude not to stop and say hello.

Nimbley dropping off the chimney above, he places his baton on the balcony and slides down, surprising Marinette. "Chat, what are you doing here? Is there something wrong? Is there an akuma?" she panics.

"No, no," he assures her. "I was out for a run and noticed you sitting up here." Leaning against the banister, kicking out his feet and crossing his legs at the ankles. "What are you looking at?"

She raises and eyebrow at him but answers, "It's a book on fashion in the late 1800's and early 1900's. Are you interested in fashion?" she inquires.

He laughs. "Fashion, it's… not a passion of mine but I can appreciate talent when I see it."

She watches him, he goes quiet. Looking up at Chat, Marinette can see there's something wrong with him. Setting down the book, she goes to him, placing her hand on his elbow. "What's wrong Chat?" She asks.

Before he can answer, his stomach growls loudly at the smells from Marinette's parent's bakery still wafting in the air however faint. His feline super sense of smell not helping. Giving Chat a strange look she once again raises an eyebrow at him. "I suppose I'm not feeling well."

Looking at him seriously she asks sternly, "What's going on Chat?" He can tell by her look he'd better tell her the truth of she's going to drag him to the nearest police station and report him as being neglected. "Are your parents not feeding you?"

He supposed that is true, in a way but he'd better start talking before she takes action. Marinette is not someone who doesn't take action when she sees someone in need. He's seen her take action, you don't get in the way of the class representative when she makes a plan. "My parents are feeding me. I just have a strict diet. I have to keep this statuesque figure," he grins, posing and flexing for her but she's seeing right through him. "My meals are a little small for someone…"

"Who runs around Paris, flinging himself from rooftop to rooftop saving the city?" she asks.

"I was going to say someone in the middle of a major growth and development period but yes, that too," this time he grinned and she shakes her head.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" she asks with concern in her voice.

"Don't worry about me Marinette," he turns to leave. "I shouldn't have stopped. I just saw you sitting there and thought you might like some company I didn't stop to burden you with my troubles."

Before he can bound off, Marinette grabs his arm with an iron grip, "Come with me."

Half turning back he looks at her. Her eyes aren't stern anymore, only pleading and hopeful. It's a look he can't refuse and he allowed her to lead him to the hatch. Opening it, Marinette sat on the edge before dropping through and into her bedroom with Chat following suit. Looking around he realized he was in, err on Marinette's bed. She'd already moved around the bed and headed down the stairway and he quickly followed her, eager to move to a less suggestive part of the room.

Upon reaching the main level, she turns to him. "Wait here," she instructs as she flips on a light beneath the loft. Opening the door, she heads down the stairway while he looks around for a seat. Finding a chaise he considers taking a seat but decides he'd rather sit in the chair he spots beneath the loft however this puts him in a tenuous position. As he sits down he notices several pictures of himself posted around the area. 'Why does Marinette have pictures of me all over?' he wonders.

Before he can put much thought in it, Marinette returns with a large plate with an assortment of tempting items.

"Here Chat, this should help," she says as she offers him the large plate.

"Marinette, I don't need you to feed me."

"Says the tomcat who's stomach keeps growling" she'd told him.

"Then let me pay for them."

"Please don't be worried about that. These items came from our day-old cooler. If they don't get sold tomorrow, we will have to dispose of them and we have to dispose of far too many items in my opinion."

"Are you serious. You have to just throw them out?" he asks, looking at the meat pie and roasted turkey crescent sandwich placed amongst sourdough rolls, a cup of chicken noodle soup, several chocolate chip cookies, which he noticed she's brought half a dozen more of that she kept for herself, as well as a small piece of what appeared to be chocolate fudge cake.

"Unfortunately we often have to throw out perishable items that don't sell in order to comply with local food and health regulations. Which brings me to the other thing I want to tell you," she starts. She'd decided on the way down to the bakery that she wanted to be there for Chat. She'd too often seen moments where he seemed to be so lonely. He always played these moments off with humor and never opened up to her but tonight he'd been given away and it was time it stopped. She couldn't offer her support as Ladybug without giving him false hope for something more between them but she could support him as Marinette. He might drive her crazy with all his puns but he was one of her closest friends and it was obvious he needed her. "If you ever need anything, you come here. Obviously we have plenty of leftovers from the bakery, and you need your strength." He starts to break in but she stops him, "but more so, you have a friend and I'm here no matter what you need. Injury, help, support, company," she emphasizes the last. "If I can give it, you will have it. That hatch will be open to you, just come in."

He'd planned to object, that he wasn't going to be prowling around her door looking for handouts but, he realized, it wasn't handouts she was offering and it rendered him speechless. Looking at her perched on the edge of the chaise lounge he realized the melancholy he'd felt earlier was gone. He'd gone for a run not because he was hungry but because he was unhappy that no one in his gilded cage seemed to care about what he wanted or needed but here, here was a friend who cared enough about him not to let him try to save face, a friend who didn't care about him saving face.

"Ok."

"Ok… you'll come here when you need something or ok, I understand?"

Laughter erupted unbidden, "Ok, I'm glad I have a friend like you looking out for me."

When she smiled it made him smile too. "Now eat so I don't have to keep listening to your stomach growl," she teases.

"Yes mom," he teases back before taking a bite of the roasted turkey sandwich, the pastry melting in his mouth and making him moan which only makes her laugh. "You have no idea," he tells her with his mouth full, "I don't get to eat these kind of things at home."

"Well our house is full of them. You can have a treat whenever you come over."

"If I come over, it won't be for treats," he tells her sternly which makes her cheeks color slightly and she takes a bite out of one of the cookies. He notices two of the cookies are gone and wonders how they'd disappeared. He continued eating the banquet of treats she'd brought for him and she'd sat with him companionably. It hadn't taken him long to finish off the meal but it had been more than an hour after that before he left to go home.

Looking back he laughs. Such a strange way to start his friendship with Marinette as Chat, with a growling stomach. It had taken several days and many runs before he'd gone back, knocking politely at the hatch. He'd turned to leave before she reached the hatch, opening it to see him leaving, "Looking for scraps tomcat?" she'd asked teasingly.

"No scraps but I could use some company," he inquired hopefully.

She'd smiled, pushing the hatch open all the way before disappearing below. It was from those brief encounters it had become a regular thing for Chat Noir to be a facet of Miss. Marinette Dupain-Cheng's small apartment frequently in the evenings.

-/\\\\\\-

He'd known before leaving school that Chat would be visiting Marinette this evening. His excitement to hear what she has to tell him after having all afternoon to work out the details of her project in her head making the afternoon feel longer than usual. He hadn't been giving lip service when he'd told her that she had a winner in that last design and he noticed she'd taken no chances with it, keeping it at her side, cover closed for the entirety of the afternoon. He couldn't really blame her after the stunt Chloe had pulled with the derby hat. At the thought he laughs, she'd put Chloe firmly in her place with that one. He'd be surprised if Chloe would be so quick to steal another of Marinette's designs for fear there's a signature piece she doesn't know about. 'Very smart Miss. Dupain-Cheng' he mused. His father had been impressed as well.

The afternoon drug by. He had a piano lesson immediately following school and followed by a Mandarin lesson. He'd eaten a late, and he made sure filling, dinner alone before heading to his room. He'd showered and followed his usual routine, sneaking out the bathroom window.

Since Chat had started hanging out with Marinette a couple times a week, generally at the same time each evening, he'd started being extremely careful about the route he takes to get there. He'll head off in every direction, take a lap around the Eiffel tower, then head back low to the rooftops and drop down in the shadow of the chimney, in the shadow of the awning before slipping through the hatch. A few weeks after his first visit, he'd arrived to find a black light installed beneath the awning making the area glow while he stayed hidden in his black catsuit. His hair does glow a lovely shade of blue though. He'd smiled at Marinette's forethought to provide light for him to enter safely without letting anyone looking up see him. She told him later it was on a timer to turn on at dark and off at sun up.

He'd usually spend about ten minutes looking like he's heading to all different parts of Paris, sometimes running right passed the bakery and having to double back without anyone seeing him. Tonight was no different. He was grateful for Marinette's friendship and he wasn't going to take the chance of endangering her with his impatience so nearly twenty minutes after he'd left his home, he dropped down on the balcony above Paris's best bakery and slipped through the hatch.

A moment after entering the room he hears Marinette call out, "Hello Chat." He can tell she's beneath the loft and starts to descend the stairs. She's already hurrying out to meet him, practically bursting with excitement. "Guess what happened today at school!" she practically shouts.

He's only half way down the stairs but he stops, leaning his head on his hand, elbow on the banister, tilting his head slightly, "Did Chloe announce she's going to be home schooling from now on," he asks, knowing that, though Chloe is a friend, she's not the kindest person in there class and she insists on tormenting Marinette.

Marinette stops. "If that had actually happened, you would be able to hear the party I would throw from the other side of Paris" she tells him, grinning mischievously.

He laughs, "If that's not it, I can't imagine what has made you so excited." There is no way he's going to ruin her fun at telling him all about the contest.

"Gabriel Agreste is holding a contest for all secondary school students and the prize is an internship at Agreste Fashion!" she squeals in excitement.

Chat just grins. His friend is so adorable, her hands balled together in front of her chest, shoulders hunched together, a big grin on her face. "So none of your homework is done then?" he inquires as he descends the last of the stairs.

"Oh my god, I completely forgot about my homework. I've been sketching all afternoon." That strikes him as odd as he assumed she'd be working out the details of the dress he'd seen earlier today. She starts to dash off but he grabs her biceps before she can get too far, stopping her in her tracks and steps close by her side. He towers over her and has to look down to look her in the eye. "Hold on Purr-incess, first show me these sketches that have kept you so busy," he tells her quietly.

She grins, rushing off in the direction of many, many, MANY pieces of paper spread across her bedroom floor. Looking around, he sees amazing design after amazing design but none of them have the flare, or detail, of the dress she'd drawn earlier. There are several books on fashion from different eras lying about as well, some lying open and others piled haphazardly.

She picks up one telling him all the things she loves about it, he nods his head but before long she's critiquing it and laying it to the side before picking up another. They continue through each of her designs in the same manner, one after another but none are the earlier design. Had she discarded it? Each design is beautiful and very clearly a gown that most any woman would love to wear but they just don't have that Marinette glamour.

"Hold on Marinette," Chat interrupts, holding his hands up as if to defend himself from the bombardment of information she's offering. "Each of these gowns is gorgeous but you keep telling me all these things that are wrong with each of them. Which one do you want to enter?"

He watches as she looks around almost frantically at the remaining drawings scattered around the floor. Placing his hand on her forearm he reassures her quietly, "If none of these are what you want, you still have time to come up with the perfect design."

She stops her search to hold his gaze. Letting out a breath, she pushes herself off the floor and goes to her desk, lifting a sheet of paper she returns to sit next to Chat on the floor, leaning into his shoulder. She's looking at the paper but he doesn't reach for it, he just watches her, waiting for her next move. A moment later she catches his gaze again and he gives her a soft smile. She smiles back and offers him the page.

Taking it, he sees that it's the drawing from this afternoon except she's filled in more details. Instead of a pencil sketch, she's inked the lines and removed any smudges. Each pleat is inked with a dark, cranberry red, then a darker red is used on the underside of the pleating to create shadowing and depth, and finally the whole dress has been shaded a similar shade of cranberry. She's drawn in a simple face and given the figure a seductive, half updo with her midnight hair with blue highlights cascading over the sleeveless shoulder. She's raised the front hem slightly and he can see a pair of T strap, open toed heels peeking out.

It had looked great earlier but, with all the detail she's added, it looks amazing now. He's not sure what to do and remains for what must have been a moment too long.

"You're having the same reaction I did when I finished it. It's so boom, over the top."

Looking at her, Chat can't believe what he's hearing. "That's not at all what I was thinking. I was thinking wow. You want to do it in a dark red?"She nods. "This is an amazing dress. The only question I have is why wouldn't you create this beautiful dress?"

She looks at him sheepishly. "I've never worn anything like that."

Chat's mouth goes dry. "You've never worn anything like this?" he chokes out.

"Yeah," she continues quietly. "The designer has to present their own design unless they get special permission to use a model from Gabriel Agreste." Yes, that sounds like his father. It would be unlikely he'd give Marinette permission to use a model with her figure. What is he up to?

Looking at the drawing again, he chooses his words wisely. "All these designs are amazing. Any number of them would be competitive but if you want to really show what you are capable of, this is the design you should create."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to wear something like that."

"So you designed it but you won't wear it?" he asks confused.

"I had a model in mind to wear it."

He can't help the laugh, "What do they have that you don't?"

"They're used to these type of clothes."

"Fashionable and classy clothes?"

"No, slinky and revealing!"

He had to admit the design was slinky and it made him swallow hard. It isn't all that revealing though. The neckline is tasteful, the back is very low but shows no more than a high cut bikini would, and the silhouette is figure fitting but so classy with all the pleats. With her figure, she would look amazing in it. "What fabric do you plan to use?"

"At first I wanted to use a red on red damask but the fabric would be too heavy."

She's right, the complexity of the weaving to create a damask fabric makes it a thick and heavy fabric. Adding in all those pleats would only create a great deal of bulk and detract from the natural appeal of the damask pattern.

"Since it's pleated," she continued, "I'm going to need to use a light fabric so my next thought was silk gossamer BUT it's so sheer that I'd have to create an under-dress to drape the gossamer pleats to and I'm concerned about the differences in shades in the pleats due to the layering over the under-dress."

"So what have you decided on?" He knows she already has a fabric in mind but was working up to it for some reason."

"I think I'll use a deep red silk satin with a matte finish."

"That sounds like an excellent choice." He made a mental note to make a stop by his father's "cast off" fabric room to see what bolts of fabric his father may have received and discarded as unusable. There were hundreds of bolts in that room that would never see the light of day.

"I think so too..." He can tell she is lost in thought, looking away from where they sit but not really focusing on anything in particular.

"What will you do with all these other designs?"

"Oh, I'll probably choose a few that are my favorites to keep and toss the rest."

He almost chokes on his own tongue. Every mid-level fashion house in Paris would kill to have half these designs and there were several high end fashion houses that would pay good money for several of them. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Why?"

"Marinette, these are really good. Chl…," Chat started before biting his tongue. It would not do to mention someone Adrien would know but Chat should not. "I wouldn't be surprised if other people try to steal your work, it's that good. If you throw it in the trash, anyone who takes it out can claim it as their own. You should keep these for a portfolio or your future career."

Looking down at the pile of papers strewn across her floor. He is probably right, it would be wise to keep them and someone had already stolen one of her designs to use in a competition so that suggestion wasn't far fetched. "You're right. I'll have to find a place to store them and a way to keep them organized.

Chat smiles. Bending down, she begins gathering the papers off the floor and neatly stacking them in the corner of her desk. Standing, she placed her hands on the small of her back, leaning back and stretching. "Are you going to work on your design a bit more?"

"Not tonight," she tells him. "I'd like to do some fabric shopping tomorrow to get the feel for the drape and nap of silk satin before I can start mentally designing the pattern in my head. I'll need to consider the lining and internal structure of the bodice also. It will take a week or two to get it all sorted in my head."

"So homework?" he asks, anticipating her panic at the mention of the long forgotten assignments.

"Oh my! I completely forgot about my homework again," she cries, spinning around and looking for her school bag. Finding it, she props it up against the drawers of her desk and pulls out the text and notebooks within. Chat lays down on the chaste lounge to get comfortable and relax, waiting for Marinette to ask him for help with one of their assignments. "Chat…"

"Yes, princess?" he inquires, laying on the couch like a content tabby, eyes closed. All he needed was for Marinette to run her fingers through his hair and he'd be purring.

"There's a cup of potato soup, a croissant, and a cream cheese danish over there," she points to the other side of the desk behind her and to the left, "if you want them."

He'd been full before he left his house but he'd spent twenty minutes running all over Paris and he couldn't stop the growl of his stomach at the mention of her father's cream cheese danish and her mother's homemade potato soup. "I was full before I left the house you know," his pride demanding he defend himself against any suggestion that he'd come here for a treat.

"I know kitty, but you run all over Paris to keep me safe, the least I can do is offer you refreshments when you keep me company." She turns to smile at him, "And consider it payment for the tutoring you're sure to give me with this homework."

"I don't mind helping you with your homework."

"And I am happy that you enjoy my family's cooking so much. Now eat."

Sitting up, he pushes himself off the the couch before taking a seat on the chair she'd brought up to her room after she realized he was a big help on her homework, so he didn't have to stand all the time. It was the same chair she'd had when he'd come over to practice Ultimate Mech Strike III with her a year or so ago. Spinning around, he leaned back in the chair, kicking his feet out as he often does before taking a large bite of the offered refreshments and thinking how content he felt with Marinette.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has favorited or followed this story. I'd also like to thank those who have made comments. I read them all. I understand my updates are not as timely as you and I would like but fear not, this is not for lack of attention or progress. I have around fifty pages of content already written for future chapters as well as the ending prepared. I hope you'll bear with me on this, my first creative contribution to the community. It will be completed. Note: I have only seen through the Captain Hardrock episode and am not watching additional episode (which sucks) until I finish this story so, if any anything happens in later episodes in contradiction to this story, understand it was done without knowing. Onto the next chapter. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

((-/\\\\\\-))

It was nearly eleven when Chat finally arrived home that night. After leaving Marinette's he'd once again made a large lap around the city before returning home. Sometimes it feels paranoid to run all over the city when he really only needs to go a few blocks to get home but, no matter how unlikely, there is no amount of effort he won't put into ensuring her safety.

Sitting atop the rooftop he survey's the Agreste estate. It is not an easy structure to sneak into, even for a superhero, but he's getting to be an expert at sneaking in. Lifting his eyes, he gazes at the beautiful full moon hanging in the night sky casting shadows all around. The moon creates a romantic scene but returning home during the apex of its journey through the sky turns a challenging task into a nearly impossible feat.

Moving from one shadow to another, he darts to the tall row houses lining the road on the side of his house nearest the moon. Creeping into the shadow cast by a chimney, he kneels before extending his staff across the distance between the roofs. Staying low, he quickly scurries across the distance between the two buildings on all four with the shadow of the building behind him giving cover then retracts the rod once more and darts to the closest shadow for cover. Careful to avoid the roof of Gabriel Agreste's apartments, he begins to move about the rooftop, following the movements of the security sensors stationed all over.

Reaching the ledge above his bathroom window, Chat carefully sits on the brickwork, rolls to his stomach, then slowly lowers his legs over the gutter. Gently swinging his legs and hips as he hangs meters above the ground, he increases his momentum before thrusting his chest away from the ledge, allowing his body to drop through the night as the momentum of his legs pulls him, his body gliding through the air, to the safety of the window sill below. Kneeling precariously on the sill, he slides the rock away and returns it to its hiding place before slipping through the window and securing the latch.

"Plagg, claws in," he whispers, allowing the magic to wash over him as the transformation recedes.

Plagg reforms in front of Adrien, floating at eye level. Stepping around him, Adrien moves to the bathroom door without a word, peeking out to confirm there is no one in his bedroom. Satisfied the room is empty, his absence unnoticed by the others within his house, he slowly draws the door open, allowing Plagg to zip across the room. Adrien makes a beeline to the small refrigerator kept between his desk and the bed, pulling a wheel of camembert from within which he holds out for Plagg who, after taking it, retreats to the apartment Adrien has created for him beneath the headboard.

Bracing his hand on the frame of the bed, Adrien grabs the pillows he stuffed beneath the sheets before leaving and returns them to his closet. Satisfied any clues of his absence has been erased, he climbs into bed. Normally he lays in bed for hours waiting for sleep to come before he tosses restlessly until morning but, as usual after a visit with Marinette, it takes him no time at all to fall asleep.

(-/\\\\\\-)

Marinette practically leaps out of bed at the first sound of her alarm in the morning. She's showered, dressed, and ready to leave the house before her mother has come up from the bakery to check on her. Kissing her mother's cheek as she prances through the kitchen, she heads down the stairs to say goodbye to her father, her mother smiling as she watches from the front door as he daughter heads to school.

The school is so close, she should never be late. Crossing the street, she comes around the corner of the school, waving to Alya and Nino sitting on the wall of the landing at the top of the stairs. She takes the stairs at a jog, heading straight for the school office. When she'd stopped in the office yesterday, all the information packages that had been provided by the Agreste fashion house had already been taken. Someone had wisely taken the basic information from one of the packets and posted it on the office window, noting they'd requested additional copies which would be delivered for the school day tomorrow. Marinette can see a pile of envelopes stacked on the desk and a partially empty box sitting on the floor next to her. They were planning for a lot of entries. Seeing Marinette enter the office, the secretary reaches over, picking up an ivory envelope, she holds it out for her without a word. Thanking her, Marinette heads out of the office towards her locker.

She drops her satchel heavily into her locker before taking the books she needs for the first half of her day. Swinging the door closed, she makes her way to her first period classroom. The room is empty being so early before school. She takes her usual seat in the second row, lying the standard size ivory envelope with the Agreste logo stamped on it in front of her. Flipping the packet over, she lifts the flat running its length and remove the stack of papers within.

Flipping through the pages, she finds the first two are duplicates of the information posted outside the office which she reviewed yesterday. The third, fourth, and fifth pages are the contestant application forms including submission instructions. Turning them over atop the first two pages, she turns to the next sheet in the pile, it read Contest Rules, Regulations, Terms, and Conditions at the top. She pauses before leafing through the five remaining pages. They are all part of this form. Sighing, she realizes this is the form you agree to without reading online because you know you're not going to do anything dumb but this isn't a website where the expectations are clear.

Settling into her chair, she begins reading the first few lines of the rules. It takes her several minutes to work through that much and she feels she has no idea what she has read. A perplexed look mars her features, brows knitting together causing small wrinkles above the bridge of her nose and crinkles between her eyes, a small frown turning the edges of her lips down. She starts again determination clear in her eyes.

She's starting the first paragraph of the page for the fourth time when she hears the shuffling of other students entering the classroom around her. She pays little attention to them, knowing Ms. Bustier will call the room to order as they near the beginning of class. She lifts her hand, resting her elbow on the desktop and letting her thumb and forefinger span her brow as she leans into it to rest her head. The words from the page are swimming in her head, their meaning unintelligible. It's filling her head and yet none of it makes sense; the words don't come together to create a clear picture, only a mess of letters that seem to change and morph over and over again. A soft, silky voice behind her slips into her thoughts, "You should have a lawyer look at those."

She chuckles and, without thinking, begins to speak in a soft and affectionate tone, "A very dear friend told me the same thing la…" She begins, turning to the voice behind her. "Adrien!" She cries, shocked to find him leaning forward on his elbows over the desk behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"Hi Marinette," he greets, giving her a soft smile. "So who's this dear friend of yours?" he asks coyly. Marinette is oblivious to the mischievous grin in her frazzled haze at being directly spoken to by Adrien and begins to ramble.

"He's awesome… I mean you're awesome… and he's awesome too but not awesome in the way that you're awesome." She finally focuses on Adrien's face, his eyebrows raised and a look of confusion, and amusement, as to what she is trying to say obvious on his face. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "You are awesome and he is an awesome friend. He always has my back and gave me the same piece of advice last night," she tells him, looking down at the floor.

"Last night?" he asks, giving a smirk at his implication.

Her eyes jump to his face and grow big, surprised at what he's suggesting, and she blushes, "No, no, no, it's not like that. He's sweet, kind, and was helping me with my design and homework." She emphasizes the last part.

Adrien just smiles, always enjoying watching her get flustered. He's preparing another suggestive comment when Alya arrives.

"Who's helping you with your design?" Asks Alya as she slides into the seat next to Marinette. Adrien slides out of the seat he'd borrowed to look at what Marinette was reading, glancing down at the paperwork as he passes her desk before taking his own seat for class, turning in his chair, elbow on the backrest, to watch Marinette continue to squirm.

"Just a friend," Marinette answers, still blushing.

"Do I know him?" Alya continues to inquire casually while settling into her seat.

"No, I don't think you do."

That piqued her interest. "Is he from our school?" She asks, focusing her full attention on Marinette.

Marinette is starting to feel like this is an interrogation. "I'm not sure. We don't really talk about school."

This tidbit stops Alya. "You don't know what school he goes to but he's helping you with your design?" she asks, cocking her hip and placing her hand on it like a mother exasperatedly looking at a child making a poor choice.

Adrien is starting to get a bit concerned about the direction this conversation is going. He'd wanted to tease Marinette a bit about Chat but Alya is turning up the heat with her natural journalist instincts. He needs to intercede on Marinette's behalf or Chat's visits might come to light. "If you aren't talking about what school he goes to, what are you doing?" he inquires, teasingly. He watches as his playful and suggestive comment sinks into Alya's brain knowing it will distract her from her current line of questioning. She locks onto the many possibilities of that suggestion and he watches as she takes a breath, preparing her next onslaught. He'd paused only a moment before he cuts Alya off and intercedes on Marinette's behalf. "Listen Alya, this is Marinette we're talking about. She obviously approves of him and she's an excellent judge of character. Look at you and I for example. Whoever her friend is, if she trusts him, he must be a great guy."

Marinette gives Adrien a thankful glance, relieved to have someone on her side.

Alya is skeptical, "I don't know Marinette, it sounds like you don't know this guy very well." Alya's concern for her friend now allowing her to let the conversation go so easily.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette steels herself, "Alya, I appreciate your concern and I know you're looking out for me but I need you to trust me. He is a very good friend and he's trusted me with his privacy," she tells Alya, her voice serious. "I need to respect that so I can't answer a lot of questions for you but I can tell you I trust him with my life and I don't say that about just anyone." Adrien smiles softly at the sincerity he hears in her voice which is missed by both girls.

Alya gives her a look that tells her she's still a bit concerned but Adrien is right, Marinette is an excellent judge of character. "Alright girl but if this so called good guy starts to get a little handsy," she starts, shaking her finger at Marinette, "you let me know and I'll let him know exactly how he's supposed to treat a lady."

Both girls turn at the rather loud thunk from the front row. Adrien sits on the floor, one leg still propped on the chair, one hand on his head which appears to have bumped into the table on the way down, the mention of Chat Noir getting handsy with Marinette catching him off guard.

Marinette instantly rushes to his aid, "Are you alright Adrien."

"Yes, I'm fine, just lost my balance there for a moment."

"The whole class can see that," Alya reminds him, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I guess they can." He crawls back into his seat as Ms. Bustier call the class to order.

(-/\\\\\\-)

The day dragged on and on, feeling longer by the minute. Adrien found it harder and harder to focus on his lectures. To continue attending school, he is expected to maintain the level of academic excellence he achieved in his private studies so he tried to force himself to refocus his attention on the lecture again and again to little avail. He suspected Chat may need a bit of tutoring from Marinette tonight, assuming she was able to focus on the lecture better than he had been today. He can't imagine going back to the isolation he'd felt before his first day of school.

The day had mercifully come to an end and everyone had milled out of the classroom, preparing to depart for the day. He'd stopped at his locker, collecting his materials before heading toward the school entry.

As he descends the school's front stairway, his family sedan waiting for him next to the curb. He sees Nino talking to Alya and Marinette at the bottom of the stairs and calls out, "Hey Nino, Alya." As he moves closer to them he lowers his voice and lifts his hand to wave to her as he passes the group, "Hello Marinette."

"Hey dude," Nino calls, drawing Adrien's attention and slowing him down. "Want to grab a smoothie?"

Adrien grins at the easy invitation from his friends. His friends. He'd spent years wishing for friends and that wish had come true. A scant few months ago he wouldn't have turned down such an invitation for anything but this had become a regular part of his life and he was finally secure that more invitations would be coming. "I'd like to, but I can't today. I have something I need to do."

"There are child labor laws for a reason," Nino calls back jokingly.

Stopping behind the door Gorilla is holding open for him, Adrien calls back with a grin, "This one is my idea," before he ducks inside the car to drive the few blocks to his home.

-/\\\\\\-

For Marinette the day had worn on; hour after hour of class filled with information she knew she needed but didn't interest her. She's forced herself to pay attention, taking arduous notes, knowing she'd need to review them this evening because most of the information was going in one ear and right out the other. Her focus was on fabric.

She's watched the clock all day, the hands eeking around the clock face. She wanted to start shopping. When the last bell of the day had rung, she'd gathered her materials with the rest of the class and followed Alya to their lockers, vaguely listening to her talk about something her sister's had done the night before. They'd swapped books at their lockers robotically and were already headed out the school's front doors when Nino joined them. "Marinette," Alya interrupted her thoughts and the group stopped to linger at the bottom of the entry stairs, "we're heading to grab a smoothie, do you want to come with us?"

"That sounds delicious," 'and Tikki would love some,' "but I have to go fabric shopping this afternoon. If I don't find the right fabric, I won't be able to get started draping the pattern. I'd really like to get started," she explains, a pleading look in her eyes. Nino and Alya just smile, this is the Marinette they'd grown to love.

Before they can respond, they hear someone calling a greeting to them from the stairs. Nino and Alya look up but Marinette would recognize Adrien's voice anywhere. A moment later he's calling a greeting to her in a quieter tone as she turns to watch him hurry by. Without pause Nino invites Adrien to join Alya and him for smoothies. Marinette can feel the large rock forming in the pit of her stomach. She wants to go shopping for fabric. No needs to find her fabric but there is no way she can pass up the chance to spend time with the love of her life.

"I'd like to but I can't today. I have something I need to do," he calls back before sliding into the leather seat of his sedan.

"I guess it's just you and me," Nino tells Alya.

"Have fun you guys, I'm headed out," Marinette calls as she moves down the street.

"Alright girl, we'll see you tomorrow."

Marinette gives them a soft smile of gratitude. Turning down the walkway she heads North then East towards the first fabric shop on her list. There are four fabric shops within walking distance and she plans to visit each of them before heading home for dinner. She wants a silk satin material in a deep red but she knows that, to win this competition, the dress will need to be of the highest quality which is going to mean quality fabric and a lot of time in the preparation of the pattern and fitting, including a toile. Couture is expensive for a reason. Unfortunately she knows the stores she is going to visit aren't going to carry the higher end, couture quality fabrics used by many of the fashion houses in Paris, but she hopes to find something comparable.

It takes twenty minutes to walk to the first, and smallest, store on her list. Stepping through the doorway, Marinette's breath catches at the array of colors before her. Each shelf is its own rainbow of hues, many in multiple shades. Reaching out, she lets her fingers glide across the edge of multiple bolts of glossy, smooth fabric, the surface shimmering in the light at her soft caress.

Moving father into the shop, Marinette takes in the bolts of velvet, lace, linen, and charmeuse among the others. She slips a sheer chiffon between her fingers as she passes, feeling the smooth texture as it cascades like water back to the shelf. A calm washes over Marinette for, as busy as her life has become, this always brings her tranquility.

Twenty minutes later, she's still in the same store, browsing shelf after shelf and finding many beautiful lengths of fabric, but had yet to find a single bolt of fabric of the quality she needs for her final garment or toile. Sighing, she makes her way to the front of the shop, ready to head to the next store which is a slightly larger establishment...

She's had high hopes as she entered each of the last two, larger, establishments and left each of them more disappointed than the one before. Her hopes have plummeted drastically as she makes her way to the last of the shops she planned to visit this afternoon. She'd started the afternoon so excited only to be met with disappointment after disappointment. Where was lady luck when she needed her? For someone who carries the fate of more than two million people in the city of Paris with ease, feeling mentally and physically exhausted over fabric is quite the feat.

Pulling the door of the last shop open, she enters and the sound of the city fades away. Stopping, she takes a breath, closing her eyes, and steadying herself. Opening them once again, she scans the room for a direction, more pragmatic in her search than when she started. To one side she sees several rows of sheer chiffon fabric and assumes the fabric she'll be looking for will be in the same direction. She passes rows of cotton and other fabrics before arriving at the ones she hopes will hold what she is looking for. She gently brushes her fingertips along the smooth silks, satins, and charmeuse. The loose ends of some of the bolts dancing across her fingertips, slipping away like drops of water between her fingers. Looking about she knows that she's still in the lower end fabrics of the formal fabrics section and moves deeper into the store.

When she comes across a bold of Shantung silk she knows she's getting closer to where she hopes to find the fabric she desires for her gown. She begins moving through the racks, scanning each one for both the fabric she desires and alternatives in the color she desires. There are some beautiful vibrant reds, deep scarlettes, and rich burgundies but none have just the right balance of bright and dark. It can't be too dark but she doesn't want a fabric that will scream for attention. The color should lend subtle strength to the design. The design will be classy and be the attention getter.

After making her way up and down each of the isles of fabric, Marinette notices one of the sales women approaching. "Can I help you find something miss?" she asks kindly. "We'll be closing soon and I'd hate for you to have to make another trip."

Without thinking, she glances at the clock on the wall. It's late, nearly dinner time. "I'm sorry, I'm looking for a high end, couture silk sateen."

The woman has a puzzled look, "Couture fabric is very expensive. If you're making a dress for a school formal, we have several more reasonably priced sateen fabrics."

"No, it has to be silk sateen. It's for a competition for one of the fashion houses. I also need a fabric with a similar drape for the toile."

The woman's eyes get big, "It sounds like you know exactly what you need. Tell me a bit about the garment you'll be making."

Marinette describes the general shape and the construction of the dress with its many pleats. "It sounds like what you're looking for is duchess silk sateen but we don't carry that in our store. I'm not sure any stores carry it. Most of the fashion houses buy it directly from the manufacturer. It retails for around €160 a meter." The woman can see the shock on Marinette's face at the cost of the fabric she's searching for. In the hopes of lessening the girl's distress, she offers, "We have mercerized cotton. It's a good alternative."

"Oh, that might work for the toile but I don't think a cotton base is going to work for the final garment. Can I purchase the mercerized cotton through your website and have it carried over by courier?"

"Absolutely. You know, we have several lovely silk satins that would make excellent garments as well as a lovely selection of shantung which is very light if you're going to be dancing in it."

"Thank you. I'll have to consider my options a bit more I believe. Luckily I have the time. Good evening," she calls as she heads toward the front of the store.

Stepping out of the store, Marinette hears a small voice calling her, "Have you been shopping all afternoon?"

"Yes Tikki, I have." she responds glancing down.

Peeking up at the young girl through a small gap in her purse, she notices the downtrodden expression of her wielder. "So you didn't find what you were looking for?"

Strolling to a bench beneath a tree, Marinette sits down, cradling her purse in her lap, the closure held open so Tikki can drape her arms over the side. "Not only didn't I find what I was looking for, I found out it's almost €200 a meter when sold retail and is usually sold directly to the designer from the manufacturer so getting my hands on it is going to be a miracle," she tells the small deity before her, her head dropping back in exasperation of the situation.

"You are the embodiment of luck."

"Tikki!"

"I know this is a setback you weren't expecting but this is not an impossible thing. There's going to be more work than you expected but I have never known you to be afraid of a challenge. Isn't that why you started early?"

Sighing and lifting her head, she looks at her friend and answers, "Yes, in case of issues like this."

"Maybe you should return home and look at it fresh in the morning. It is hard to make good decisions when you're tired." Tikki's tummy growls, "And hungry," she adds, both giggling. "Things will turn out the way it's supposed to," Tikki says so quietly Marinette doesn't hear her.

It takes Marinette a full half an hour to return home. Opening the front door she calls, "Mama, papa, I'm home."

"Hello Marinette," calls her mother from the kitchen. She comes around the counter with a plate holding a fresh deli sandwich and steamed vegetables. As she sets the plate on the breakfast bar, she observes, "You look tired."

"I am tired," Marinette says her as she sinks into her mother's arms.

"Sit down and tell us about it," Sabine tells her as she catches the eye of her husband on the couch, watching him lay down the paper he'd been reading.

Marinette eats her dinner as she explains everything that has happened to her this afternoon. "It sounds like you are going to have to make some changes to your plan."

"Yes I am and it's going to take longer than I expected. I can't believe the fabric is so expensive. Maybe this project is too much for me," she tells her parents looking dejected.

Her parents only look at one and other knowing there daughter is stronger than this and wondering why they have to go through the drama. "Marinette," Sabine begins, "how important is this competition to you?"

"It's very important mama."

"Then what are you going to do to ensure your success?"

Marinette had been thinking about that same question on her way home. As she thought about all the obstacles she'd become overwhelmed and started to despair that this challenge is too much for her.

Seeing the many emotions crossing her features, Tom can tell she's trying to plan for every possible mishap, even those that will probably never happen. "Marinette, one step at a time, that's how you climb a mountain."

Seeing her father's reassuring smile she stops spiraling and focuses on the obstacle in front of her, "Is there any way I could pick up some hours at the bakery to earn extra money?"

Sabine looks at Tom over Marinette's shoulder. "I think we can find some work for you," Tom tells her. "But you may have to adjust your schedule a bit. I have some deliveries you can take on. I'm happy to pay you what I would pay the courier to take them. There are other odd jobs I'm sure we can come up with and, if I can give you some of my jobs, it will allow me to take on a bit more work as well."

"I'll do whatever I need to do papa."

"We're glad to hear it," Sabine tells her daughter. "We're proud of you."

"Thank you mama."

Patting her daughter on the knee, Sabine tells her, "It is time we headed to bed. It's nearly seven." She kisses Marinette on her cheek before heading towards her bedroom.

"Goodnight Marinette," Tom tells his daughter, kissing her on the head.

"Goodnight Papa," she calls before packing up her things and heading upstairs.

(-/\\\\\\-)

Adrien relaxes into the soft leather seat for the few minutes it takes to arrive home. Grabbing his bag, he steps out of the car before his bodyguard reaches the door and heads up to the stairs to the front door. Barreling inside, he calls "Nathalie, where is my father?"

Nathalie steps around the stairs, "He is in the atelier," she tells him in a calm, composed tone.

Adrien should have known he'd be in his study. Heading up the stairs, he turns to the left before wrapping on the door. His father's voice, slightly annoyed, comes from within. "Enter."

"Hello Father."

"Yes Adrien. How may I help you?" Gabriel asks in a short, kurt tone.

"May I have a bolt of fabric from your cast off room?"

This is an unusual request from his son and it brings Gabriel's attention to focus on him. "What do you wish the bolt for?"

"I have a friend from school who is designing a dress and I'd like to gift it to her for her project."

Immediately discarding the project as sub-par and not worthy of even his discarded fabrics Gabriel offers, "I'll have Nathalie take you shopping for a bolt of fabric for your friend. The fabrics in that room are too fine for a high school hobby."

Adrien had known he'd meet with some resistance from his father. "This project is deserving of the fine fabrics. She won your derby competition and even you were impressed with her design."

Pausing, Gabriel takes a moment to think back to the competition Adrien has referred to. "I recall the Bourgeois girl had copied the winners design however it had a unique feature that she was unable to contest and the victory was awarded to another student."

"Yes that is correct and it is the winner who is creating this project."

Gabriel looks up from the table where he is leaning on his hand perusing papers to study his son, raising an eyebrow. "The ability to design exceptional and appealing headwear does not translate into the ability to create attire equivalent to the value of the bolts within that room."

Straightening, Adrien faces his father. "If it were Chloe, I would agree with you however I have seen many of her designs and believe her skill deserving of my gift."

Gabriel tilts his head slightly, the unexpected steel in his son's stance an unexpected response from the normally yielding boy. "Do you have a connection or affection for this young lady?"

Surprised by the question, he gives an assaulted cry "Father!"

"It is a fair question for what you are asking. I want to determine if your admiration for her skill is emotionally driven."

He has no choice but to answer as honestly as he can at the unforeseen question, or as honestly as he's allowed himself to admit to himself. Looking down he searches for his answer, "Yes, I am affectionate towards her in that she is my friend but this has not colored my opinion of her ability as a designer. Chloe is also my friend and I can honestly tell you she is horrible." Meeting his father's gaze he tells him in a strong, firm voice, "Marinette is deserving of this gift."

Gabriel studies his son. "You may take one however should you wish for any others, I will need to see the design for which it will be used as well as the finished project from the initial bolt before I will allow the pillaging of my store room again."

Adrien's smile is blinding and he rushes to hug his father. "Thank you father!" he cries.

Surprised at the sudden outpouring of affection, Gabriel wraps his arms around his only child, a bit awkwardly. "You are welcome. Now I must finish my work Adrien," he tells him a bit quieter.

"Of course Father," Adrien is so pleased at receiving permission to take the bolt of fabric, he doesn't notice his father's awkwardness at the physical affection shown him. Reining in his excitement, Adrien stands, looking once more at his father with a beaming smile before briskly walking, not running as he'd like to, to the door. Once outside, he sprints down the stairs, racing around Nathalie standing at the base of the stairway, then down the short hall to a door beneath the stairs.

Flipping on the light without looking, he thunders down the stairway full speed, stopping at a landing halfway down, he opens a door and switches the light on. As each of the many bulbs in the room begin to glow, a rainbow of colors is revealed before him. He pauses for a moment in the doorway to take it all in. The room has a high ceiling reaching at least three meters with shelving wrapped around the outside walls of the entire room and stand alone shelves, also reaching the ceiling, running down the center from his left to his right. It is organized not by fabric type but by color starting with yellow and gold to his immediate left wrapping around to blend to orange then red, blue, violet, and finally green on his right. In the center of the room on the stand alone shelves are the neutral colors; white, ivory, cream, tan, brown, and black. There are bright bolts, dark bolts, heavy fabrics, light, airy fabrics. It is beautiful in it's hues and, to him, it's just a lovely, colorful display but, to Marinette, he knows it would be a wonderland of amazing, fanciful treasures she'd only had the opportunity to look at in store windows, catalogues, or online. He makes a mental note to bring her down here if he ever has the opportunity.

Making a beeline for the red section, he begins scanning the colors on the shelf. She'd said she wants a dark red. Moving down the rack, he begins scanning through the many, many, many bolts of fabric on display. Each bolt is vibrant in its color and finely made, delightful to touch. On the third shelf from the bottom is a gorgeous red on red damask that she'd mentioned when talking to him the night before. Pulling it from the rack he feels the texture and weight in the corner of the weave. Though it is a fine fabric and not as heavy as many like it woven for upholstery rather than clothing, it is still far too heavy for the drapy, pleated gown Marinette has in mind. Growing up in a house with a world renowned designer, it was hard not to pick up a few things.

He'd been searching for over an hour. Plagg woke up about twenty minutes ago only to fly off and find a soft cotton fabric to burrow into high in the upper shelves. He'd been complaining about being hungry since he woke. What is new? Tired and frustrated at his lack of success, Adrien leans back, placing his hands behind him to brace himself, his legs bent in front, and his head hanging back. "Plagg, I'm starting to think it's not here."

"Maybe we should get some camembert. Camembert makes everything better."

He shouldn't be surprised by Plagg's lack of encouragement or even his lack of help. "Ah, can't you ever be helpful?"

Adrien watches as Plagg dissolves and starts to drift through the yards upon yards of fabric heaped on the shelves. Reaching Adrien's eye level, he stops floating and asks, "Would helping get me cheese faster?" Adrien just looks at Plagg flatly. "Didn't think so."

Rolling back onto his feet, Adrien continues his search. It has to be here. There are dozens and dozens of bolts of fabric on each shelf in this room. How could he not find the one he's looking for?

It was another twenty minutes before Adrien once again sits on the floor, his stomach growling. "Plagg, I think it's time to admit defeat." Plagg looks down from his perch several shelves above. The poor kid had been searching for a long time.

"So you're ready to finally feed me?"

"Yes Plagg, we will feed you before going to dinner. Let's get going."

Plagg slowly dephases and drops through shelf after shelf, rephasing and sitting on the edge of an askew bolt towards the back of a shelf. "Then I am ready to help you."

"What do you mean you're ready to help…" Adrien stops short, looking at Plagg sitting on the exact bolt of fabric he'd been looking for for nearing two hours. "How long have you known that was there?" he asks incredulously. Plagg says nothing, remaining seated on the bolt of fabric that had been pushed back as other bolts were added. It sits askew, partially buried beneath other bolts, only a small part of it peeking out of the sea of shades.

Adrien reaches in for the bolt, his fingertips falling just short of reaching the edge of the board the fabric is wrapped on. Taking a deep breath, he braces his feet and pushes his upper body under the shelf above, his weight lying on top of all the other bolts, as he strains to reach the one bolt he's been searching for. He can feel the rough carded board but can't quite grasp the edge to pull it towards him. Frustrated, he uses his legs again, thrusting his upper body deeper within the cavern of the stacks, finally receiving satisfaction upon feeling his fingers wrap around the thickness of the fabric before he yanks on the bolt hard, the fabrics pinning it falling away to the sides. He allows his body to fall back slightly, the fabric sliding with him. His knees touch the floor once more, he kneels, bracing himself and pulling his treasure with him. He sits back on his heels, the length of cloth laying across his lap. Plagg silently floats out towards him. "Now can I have camembert?"

Adrien looks down at the fabric in his hands. It is a deep red. As he runs the outer corner of the fabric between his fingers as his father taught him, he can feel the soft, luxurious, richness of the fabric. It's not completely matte but it's not glossy by any means. The slight shine can't be helped with such an expensive fabric, it's the natural shine of each fiber though much more subtle than a glossy fabric. He holds the material as if it's made of gold not silk strands. "Yes Plagg you can, times two. This is exactly what I have been searching for." Looking up at his friend, "Thank you."

Plagg is a bit surprised by his thanks. Normally he'd be berated for having waited so long to tell him about it. "Eh, you would have found it kid. Now feed me."

Adrien carries the bolt of fabric to his room as carefully as he would a great historical treasure. When he reaches the closet at the top of the stairway to the cellar, he withdrawals several sheets of tissue, which he lays across his arm, before ascending the massive main stairway. At the first landing, he turned sharply right towards his bedroom doorway.

Upon entering the room, Plagg floats from the inner pocket of his overshirt, towards Adrien's desk. Adrien moves across the room heading for the walk in closet. Placing the fabric down on a pile of clothes, he lays three or four of the sheets of tissues down before lying the bolt across it and pulling the tissue around. Once covered, he takes the other sheets of tissues and continues to securely wrap the precious material to ensure it's safety until he can present it to his treasure.


End file.
